


Bad Kitty

by ExistentialFish



Series: Helsknight Dump [2]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Affection starved Hels, Cat Helsknight, Grian lets the cat out of the bag in a way, He turns human again eventually, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm bad at a lot of things, Scar's a good cat nurse, Transformation, kinda cracky ngl, minecraft personas ONLY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExistentialFish/pseuds/ExistentialFish
Summary: Hels is turned into a cat after his battle with Wels. Luckily for him, Scar finds him in the nether and takes him home.
Series: Helsknight Dump [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816396
Comments: 72
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty new to the fandom, so please let me know if anything seems off or super out of character! This isn't the sort of thing I usually write, but someone commented on my last story that Hels seemed like an angry cat, and inspiration struck. I hope its at least a mildly enjoyable read.

Helsknight hadn’t really been thinking when he activated the crystal. Which, okay, maybe that should’ve indicated what he was about to do was a bad idea. But he’d gotten desperate as he realized he was essentially doomed - still a ways away from the only portal that could transport him back to his own world, heavily injured, and now, to top it off, pursued by a set of metal footsteps that were fast approaching. He wasn’t sure what Welsknight wanted, whether he was there to finish the job or merely lock him up, but either way he didn’t particularly want to find out. Knowing that at this rate the other knight would catch up with him long before he made it back to the portal, Hels fished the crystal he’d taken from one of Wels’s chests out of his pockets. It hadn’t been clearly labeled, and with the mixture of adrenaline and blood loss bogging down Hels’s sharp mind he didn't have the sense to think it through further. All he really remembered about it was that it had something to do with “transformation.” With any luck, it would turn Hels into something small that could hide from his approaching enemy or, better yet, something big that could knock that stupid man into the lava sea bubbling beneath the cliff.

The sound of armor was getting closer and so, left with little choice, Hels swallowed his doubts and activated the shiny item. He had been prepared for it to not work and for it to dash his last hopes on the ground below. What he hadn't been prepared for was for the crystal to _explode,_ the force sending him flying through the air into a wall, his head cracking against the rocks and a burst of pain racing through him the last thing he registered before he blacked out.

When he came to he was lying on the ground. His entire body ached and all his senses were sharper, perhaps from the alertness still gripping his head. He was at least relieved to find he could neither see nor hear his hermit counterpart. That relief didn't last long however, as he realized the nether around him appeared to be much bigger than before. And… hotter?

He was distracted from the strange sensations when the gash on his side gave a renewed throb, overpowering the various other aches in his body. He realized he should really be trying to staunch the blood flow and reached to do just that – only to come to the very sudden realization that his hands were no longer hands, but paws, and the skin around his wound was no long covered by cloth but rather by black fur. Hels swore his heart stopped for a moment as his new body finally registered. A cat. Of all the different mobs he could’ve been turned into, why did that cursed crystal choose a cat?

As Hels became aware of his situation he cursed his prior hastiness. He had saved himself from some ill fate at Welsknight’s hands only to doom himself to another miserable fate. Although the sluggishness lurking in his head warned him his efforts would be fruitless he still struggled to his feet and took a little step forward. Just as he had expected, agony shot through his newly tiny body and he crumpled back down to the hot netherrack below. Fantastic. Now he would get the delightful death of either bleeding out on the scorching rock or suffocating from the stifling heat. What was more, he wasn't even sure he could respawn in a realm that was not his own. 

He was so hot under all this fur and his body ached relentlessly but there was nothing more he could do. He was completely vulnerable, and had he the energy to spare for anger, it would have boiled his blood. As it was, he was too tired and weak to do anything but stare glumly at the barren nether landscape, potentially the last sight he would ever see.

So this was how the great Helsknight would fall – a victim of his own stupidity. God, he felt like _Wels._

Dark spots danced over his vision as heard footsteps approach again. Hels didn't hear the telltale scrape of his counterpart’s armor, and even if it had been him it wasn't as if he could know the bloody “cat” obscured behind the rocks was his target, so Hels didn't exert himself worrying over the approach. He was sure they would just pass by him without a second glance.

Much to his surprise, the footsteps halted nearby before suddenly speeding up, now walking directly towards him. A figure knelt down beside him, paying no mind to Hels’s hiss – which may have been the only bonus of this weak body, the ability to tell people to fuck off without bothering to use his words. “Oh geez, how’d you end up here? You look pretty beat up.” The voice sounded soothing but frantic, but Hels didn't really care. It was disturbing his rest, so it could be as unhappy as it wanted.

A bottle was uncapped and a second later two hands were cupped near his face, pinkish liquid pooled in their palms. Hels feebly licked the potion once, but ultimately decided his curiosity at its contents wasn't worth the energy. The figure beside him let out a frustrated sigh but gave up. Instead, he slid his hands under Hels’s prone form. “Sorry about this kitty, I've got to get you home so I can fix you up.” Hels was lifted into his arms and pain shot through him, a humiliating little whimper escaping him. “Shh, I know, it’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

Hels hissed and tried to squirm away for a brief moment, but the pain it caused and the effort it took were too much and he quickly fell still. The man holding him muttered another apology then set off at a brisk pace. It occurred to him briefly that he should track the path they were taking, but the spots clouding his vision were so dense by this point that he gave up within seconds. He felt himself slowly slipping into darkness as he heard the distorted sounds of a nether portal and felt the uncomfortable jerk in his core as they entered it.

The last thing he was aware of were the arms he was wrapped up in tightening worriedly and a soft “hang in there, you’ll be okay. I promise.”

And then, nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, along with spellcheck and a long internet research session, taught me I should've been spelling "woah" as "whoa" this whole time, which feels weird to me but the more you know I guess?
> 
> Thanks for checking out chapter two!

Everything hurt when he woke up. Hels could hardly focus on a single area that wasn't at least sore, and some spots ached or throbbed far more harshly. But despite the pain’s best efforts to drag him from his rest, the gentle warmth surrounding him nearly succeeded in lulling him back to sleep. He was able to rouse himself when he realized it was not the familiar, sharp heat of the lava filled caverns of his homeland, but something else entirely. Something gentle, safe almost. Something sort of… soft?

Hels blinked his eyes open and found himself in a small, cozy room, a soft blanket loosely tucked around him. The room was nearly bare aside from a bed, two chests, and the cushion Hels was laying on. All the windows were shut tight, as was the door, but Hels was sure he could find a way out somehow. He squirmed out from the blanket, ignoring the protests of his injuries. Unfortunately, his movements seemed to have alerted his captor, who Hels, in his hazy state of mind, had failed to notice. A pair of hands scooped him up before he could make a break for it, and refused to disappear no matter how fiercely Hels hissed. Instead, they gently set him on someone’s lap. The bastard had the gall to soothingly stroke him like he was some wild animal.

“Whoa there, not so fast. You’ll just make your injuries worse buddy.” The hand continued to pet down his spine, careful not to brush the main wound on his side. Hels growled, twisting around slightly to look up into the imposer’s face. He searched his brain for the man’s name. Ah, that was right. ‘Scar.’ Oddly enough, Scar wore a relieved smile despite Hels’s brief attempt to bite him. “It’s good to see you’re awake and lively. You’re a tough little guy, I’m sure you’ll make a quick recovery.

“It’s a good thing I found you when I did,” Scar continued, and Hels wondered why the idiot was talking to a cat. “If you’d lost any more blood, you’d have been a goner. I barely kept you stable with the regeneration potions I had on hand.” He scritched right between Hels’s shoulders, and when he continued speaking his voice was far fonder than Hels felt it had any right to ever be. “How’d you end up in the nether like that? You must be quite the little adventurer.”

Hels huffed, the best he could do to convey his annoyance. The gash on his side twinged and Hels moved to chew on the spot without really thinking. He suspected it happened out of some newfound instincts. 

“Oh – I'm afraid I can’t let you do that. Sorry kitty.” Scar reached to the side and, before Hels could get his bearings enough to leap out of his arms, grabbed a cone and secured it around Hels’s neck. Hels hissed indignantly but Scar only mumbled soft, soothing nonsense to him.

Oh, Hels was so going to kill this man.

Scar finally set him back down on his cushion and stood to walk over to the chest. Hels eyed the door, fully intending to bolt from the room. Then he smelled it, and his dumb-ass cat brain lost its cool. Scar had opened the chest and a delicious scent was coming from it that made Hels’s stomach rumble longingly. He grudgingly settled back down but remained tense. As soon as the hermit turned his attention away Hels would strike and snatch the food from underneath his unsuspecting nose.

Much to his surprise however, Scar quickly returned to his side with a dish in his hands, which he set down in front of him. Hels recognized the food on the dish to be fish, and realized it must have been the source of the smell. It was strange, fish back in his world never looked or smelled this nice. Hels leaned forward to sniff it suspiciously, and, seeing the hermit give him an encouraging smile, took a small bite. The fool probably wouldn't have had the sense to poison Hels even if he had known such a threat lived under his very own roof, so Hels figured he was safe enough in this form. 

Scar seemed to relax once Hels started eating, which was nearly enough to make him want to quit eating out of spite. But for the time being his stomach proved stronger than his malice, and so he finished the fish off quickly. He did not, however, eat the diced vegetables.

Scar chuckled and patted his head once he finished. With his full stomach, Hels found himself sleepy and content enough to not hate it like he should have. “Picky eater, huh? That’s okay, we’ll work on it,” Scar commented. Hel’s insult only came out as a disgruntled meow, but he ignored that particular indignity in favor of making himself comfortable on the pillow. It was difficult with the cone on but he eventually managed and settled down to sleep. He’d have a better chance of successfully escaping if he was well rested after all.  
\---  
Waking proved easier this time, though his joints still felt stiff and heavy. Sleep bogged him down, tempting him to stay and fall back asleep. Then his senses caught up to him. He could hear birds chirping, could smell the jungle air and could feel its breeze card through his fur. But most importantly, he could see it. Where there had previously been a door, now there was an empty doorway. 

Hels stayed still for a few moments longer, listening closely, but couldn't pick up on any signs of humanoid life. Cautiously he stood and crept to the doorway, peering out. Pain twinged up his paw and tugged at his wounds but it was manageable so he payed it no mind. He leapt out towards freedom, promptly cursing himself as he landed on his sprained paw. Determined not to let the chance go to waste, he lifted his injured paw slightly and began limping toward the tree cover as quickly as he could. 

Progress felt painfully slow and Hels cursed his feeble body. Just as he was nearing the treeline, he heard the sound of a rocket being used, followed by two heavy thumps behind him. Seconds later familiar hands scooped him up into the air. Hels squirmed. He was _so close_.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you shouldn't be out here yet little guy.” Hels hissed as Scar carried him back into the room. “I know, I’m sorry. I don't want to coop you up if you don't want to be here either, but I cant let you go your own way while you’re still injured.” Scar placed him down on his cushion again and Hels glowered up at him. Scar looked sympathetic but simply patted the top of Hels’s head once. 

Hels looked toward the door for another last minute attempt only to find another hermit already in the doorway, fitting a new door back into place. Hels growled. He knew this one. Everyone from his realm did, it was pretty hard not to when Grian’s counterpart had proved to be such an irritating nuisance, and a powerful one too.

“’Shame about the door Scar.” Grian rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m sure the door thief won’t break this one down again now that he knows there’s a hurt kitten on the loose.” 

Scar looked unimpressed but chose not to comment more than a simple, “I hope not.” He moved to the corner to open the chest there and pulled some items out. Despite himself, Hels’s ears and tail perked up at the prospect of more food.

Grian walked over and sat on the ground beside him and held out his hand, presumably for Hels to sniff. Hels gave him his best unimpressed look – which he really, really hoped translated well in this body – and turned his head to the side. Grian didn't become offended as he had hoped, much the opposite as he laughed a little and rested his hand on the ground between them instead.

“Has he been eating? He’s awfully skinny.” Hels’s ears flattened against his head. He was _lean_ and _well muscled,_ not skinny!

“He ate the fish I gave him yesterday but wouldn’t touch anything else I tried to give him. I’m hoping he just needs a bit of time to gain some body fat – poor thing’s probably been malnourished out in the wild for awhile,” Scar replied. Hels straightened up when another dish was set in front of him. His excitement, however, quickly morphed into offense when he noticed that in some underhanded attempt to get him to eat more, Scar had mixed the vegetables in with the fish this time. Hels looked up, met Scar’s eyes, bent down to gingerly pick up a leaf from on top of the fish – then spat it out onto the floor. Grian burst out laughing and Scar groaned. 

“He’s a bit of a priss, isn't he?” Grian said, still laughing. 

“Apparently. How am I supposed to give him balanced nutrition if he won’t- oh my god.” Scar stopped and stared as Hels meticulously picked each leaf and diced vegetable off with his teeth and spat each one onto a pile on the floor. Grian’s peals of laughter, which had just started to die down, rose back to full strength. Once he had removed as much as possible, Hels smugly dug into his fish.

Grian wheezed out a few more laughs before finally composing himself to reassure his friend. “Give it time Scar. Right now you just need to get enough meat on his bones to help the healing process along. The rest can come after. He’ll be alright.”

“I guess you’re right…” Scar still sounded concerned but didn’t try to push Hels to eat the vegetables, likely sensing his stubbornness would stand strong no matter what he did. Good. These weak hermits would have to learn who was in charge eventually. He felt a brief bit of pride at winning this battle, but it was swiftly cut short when he went to scratch without thinking, and was reminded of the cone around his neck. 

Scar sat down in front of him as Grian cautiously began petting him. Hels bristled and Grian immediately lifted his hand. Satisfied that at least one of these two idiots knew to listen to him, Hels relaxed and didn't tense again when Grian resumed his gentle petting. After gaining a bit of confidence in his newly granted petting privileges, Grian moved his hand from Hels’s back to lightly scratch beneath his chin. Before Hels knew what he was doing, a purr had risen from deep in his chest. He cut it off as quickly as it had come, but a wide grin had already split across the short hermit’s face.

“You know Scar, he’s actually kind of cute. Though I don't envy having to take care of such a stubborn lil’ guy.” Hels hissed at that and Grian wisely moved his hand away from Hels’s mouth. “What’re you going to name him?”

“Uh you know, I hadn't really thought about it yet. I’m not even sure he’ll stay once he’s healed.” Of course he wouldn't. Hels wasn't even going to stay before he was healed! “So I didn't want to get too attached, but he may be here awhile if he keeps aggravating his injuries like he did today. Maybe I should name him something after all.”

Grian’s eyes practically sparkled and Hels’s fur bristled, just _knowing_ he was about to say something stupid. “Oh! Name him Simba!” Hels hissed. Absolutely not.

“Hm, I don't know. What about Muffin?” No. “Or maybe trout?” Better, but still stupid.

“He seems kind of mean, maybe he’s an evil cat,” Grian teased, and it was almost funny how close he was to being correct. “You could give him a grumpy name, like Mephistopheles. Mephi for short!”

Scar laughed and Hels hated both of them immensely. “I’ll think on it. So how’s the base coming along?”

Grian started to respond and Hels quickly realized that he really didn’t care. He lay down and tuned the rest of the conversation out, starting to doze off as boredom overtook him. He’d have to save escaping for another day once there weren’t two humans in the room to catch him.

He fell asleep to the murmur of friendly voices, a soothing touch stroking down his back, and a strange feeling nestled deep in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, I've been binging Scar's videos to try to get a better grasp on his personality but he still feels out of character in this. Sorry about that, let me know if something bugged you. Also, go ahead and leave a comment if you have an idea for what Scar should name Hels!  
> \---  
> Please leave a comment if you have any input - whether it's input on the fic, on the character, or on anything at all, I'd love to hear from you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty unhappy with this one but I know myself, and if I had put it off any longer, this chapter would never get posted. I wasn't sure what to call Hels's world so I opted for the very unoriginal 'Helscraft,' sorry about that. Also, I'm very new to watching Xisuma's content, so I'm really sorry about how out of character he must be!  
> Hopefully it's still a fun read, enjoy.

The next few days were the most humiliating of Hels’s life. Even more humiliating than his defeat at Welsknight’s hand, and that was saying something.

Scar fussed over him near constantly. Hels was never left hungry for long and he would frequently be treated to small doses of regeneration potions, which helped his wounds heal faster and ache less – though Scar still felt the need to scold him whenever Hels moved around too much. The food and potions were fine. Good, even. It was the other things Scar did that baffled Hels, the things that made it harder to slip away. Like how he’d get up at night to check on Hels even if he did no more than whimper. All he had to do was shift around a little more than usual or whine and suddenly there’d be the hermit by his side checking him for opened injuries and trying to soothe him back to sleep. Or the peculiar way he went out of his way to pay attention to Hels even when he was preoccupied, like setting Hels on his lap to be pet as he drew new designs for his builds. Or the way – and here was the action that Hels understood the least – he seemed to not just be tolerating Hels’s presence out of some sense of obligation, but to be actually enjoying it. When Hels was feeling generous and allowed him relatively free reign Scar sometimes pressed his face into his fur and mumbled about the stress in his life, or placed him on his bed and lay beside him, recounting stories about Jellie or the other hermits. Hels couldn't quite figure out what ulterior motives he had for acting so damned genuine. He’d figure it out eventually. For now, he decided to keep his distance and observe, wary of the uneasy sensations it made him feel in his stomach and chest.

While Scar still seem intent to to make Hels’s plans as hard to fulfill as possible, it did seem the bothersome hermit did still have work to do. After a day or two spent making sure Hels’s condition wouldn't suddenly worsen, he started murmuring about needing to get back to work on his base and the campaign. At first he tried just closing the doors and windows of the house to keep Hels in and just stopping by consistently to check on him. After a couple of close calls, however, his worries seemed to get the better of him and he turned to a new method of keeping an eye on Hels – employing the help of his friends to ‘catsit.’

The first time it was the short one, Grian. Hels didn't mind that instance too much. He wasn't keen on having a warden watching him all day, but at least Grian knew the best places to scratch and seemed to have remembered enough from their first meeting to know to give Hels space when he needed it, though he also seemed to remember Hels’s desire for freedom and kept a close eye on him – maybe out of guilt for nearly setting Hels free that first time. Scar had mentioned in one of his ramblings that Grian was a “door thief” but that nobody called him out on it. Apparently it was a joke among the hermits. Hels didn't get that. The jokes he knew all either stemmed from putting down his realm-mates or were at Hels’s expense when he failed – speaking of which, Hels was positive his current situation was destined to be an unfortunately popular joke back in Helscraft now.

It was the one who came after Grian that ruffled Hels. Xisuma. That damned admin was even more insufferable than Scar and Grian. The irritation he caused was different though. Where Grian and Scar annoyed Hels by smothering him with attention, Xisuma did the exact opposite. It was as if Hels didn’t even exist to him. He would sit in a chair near the door, attention fully fixed on the bright device strapped to his arm, typing or scrolling the whole day, his attention and eyes flicking over to Hels just barely often enough to make sure he was still there. It made Hels angry, and he wasn't sure why. Logically, he knew he should be pleased. Less attention meant more chances to get out. Yet for some reason it really pissed him off. For whatever reason it was enough to prompt him to jump up onto Xisuma’s lap several times whenever Xisuma seemed particularly focused, sitting on his arm so he couldn't view the device or winding between his legs to trip him when he stood to pace around the room. 

But _apparently_ the admin was too busy to bother with Hels’s instigation. Eventually he returned to his cushion, bored out of his mind. Then, he noticed it.

At some point Xisuma had cracked open a window. An easy escape route. Even better, the hermit seemed more engrossed in his device than ever before. Hels flicked his tail and stood, slinking out of Xisuma’s direct line of sight, then leapt up onto the windowsill and slipped out, careful not to make the window creak when he pushed it open more. It was honestly too easy and a bit disappointing. 

Hels raced toward the trees, ignoring the dull ache of his wounds that was at least more manageable than it had been the first few days. He half expected someone to appear to stop him any second. Xisuma finally noticing his mistake or maybe Scar coming home with impeccable timing. But for the first time, he reached the treeline without anyone there to stop him.

Hels hesitated halfway into the foliage. It felt weird, to be fleeing like this. In his head, he knew he should flee and find some way to reverse the spell. But yet something held him back, the empty jungle suddenly seeming much more daunting. He took a step forward, and for reasons he could not understand, it felt more like a step into a cage than a leap into freedom. 

Then the door burst open behind him, and all doubts vanished from his mind. Hels darted into the trees, ducking under lush foliage for cover as he heard rapid pursuit behind him. He expected to make it farther than he did, but Xisuma found him with surprising ease and, thanks to his injuries and the unfamiliar environment, Hels was unable to outrun his pursuer.

Xisuma was less gentle than Scar when lifting Hels up and Hels was all too eager to punish him with a nasty scratch. X managed to keep a grip on him despite his squirming and scratching though and carried him back to the house where he deposited Hels on the cushions and pulled off his helmet, dropping it to the side to breathe in more easily. Hels was pleased that his failed escape had at least given Xisuma a bad time, if nothing else.

Xisuma kept a closer eye on him after that, but now his attention was no longer something Hels wanted. To retaliate he curled himself into Xisuma’s overturned helmet. He made several exaggerated purrs as he stared at Xisuma’s exasperated expression. Xisuma let him have it however, though Hels liked to think that was due to him hissing whenever Xisuma reached for it. He didn’t seem to mind too much until the two heard Scar approaching the house, at which point Xisuma hurriedly dumped Xisuma out of his helmet and shoved it back on. He awkwardly patted Hels’s head once in apology then stepped back as Scar opened the door. Hels growled at him. He hoped he left cat hair in that stupid helmet.

Xisuma explained Hels’s brief dash for freedom to Scar who shot Hels a dismayed look. Hels shrunk back a little without realizing it. What a peculiar expression.

“Sorry Scar, I just looked up and one moment he was there and the next – well, the next he was gone.”

“It’s okay, I know he’s a bit of a handful.” Hels purred softly from his spot on the floor. Hell yeah he was.

Xisuma gave Hels a strange look. “He certainly is.” He turned back to Scar, and now his voice sounded a little uneasy. “Have you noticed the way he looks at people? It’s like he understands us. And I can’t figure out how he managed to get out so smoothly...”

Scar laughed a little. “Cats are smart creatures X! Don’t worry about it so much, I promise he can be a sweetheart once he gets used to you.” He knelt down to pet Hels and Hels sat up a bit straighter, leaning into the pets while giving Xisuma the most deadpan stare he was capable of. 

“Right… well, I’d best be going. Sorry again, I hope he didn’t hurt himself too badly with that little stunt.” Xisuma finally left, and Hels was glad to see him go, though a little less so when Scar went into full mother hen mode, fussing over his aggravated injuries.

After the incident, Scar became even more watchful over him and even began to, dare he say it, coddle Hels. It was a completely foreign experience, being spoiled and fretted over like that. Hels wasn’t sure what to do about it. He hated the treatment of course. Absolutely despised it. His stupid feline body was just confused. That was the only reason he started to purr when Scar stooped down to pet him or sat up straighter whenever the hermit came into the room. The only reason he sometimes brushed against Scar’s legs was because his healing body was always hungry and Scar would give him tasty snacks when he was “cute.” And of course, the only reason he sometimes jumped onto Scar’s lap of his own free will or squirmed under one of the blankets when Scar went to sleep was because Hermitcraft was much colder than his own world, and despite all his new fur Hels still sometimes got too chilly to stand it on his own. That was, of course, the only reason. What other reason could there possibly be?

Hels behaved for a few days, hoping to lower his caretaker’s guard once more. Scar seemed to be relieved he had finally settled down, and after a few days of low activity his injuries had made solid improvement, enough so that Scar had finally removed the cone. Unfortunately, Scar hadn't yet deemed him well enough to be let back on his feet all day, and was once again becoming drawn to working on his builds and responsibilities instead of spending most of his time making sure Hels was resting. If Hels had seen the development coming, he surely would have behaved differently, but in his foolish stage of naivety and complacency, lulled into comfort by the gentleness of Scar’s care, he hadn’t minded much when Scar picked him up or moved around with him in his arms, and saw no need to protest. If only he had known the idea that discovery sparked for Scar, he would have hissed and squirmed vehemently. 

One moment he was being lifted up, an occurrence that usually wouldn't have been cause for alarm – and the next he found himself practically strapped to the hermit’s chest in some sort of makeshift pouch, wondering how the hell his life had gotten to this point. Scar called his new idea for keeping an eye on Hels a ‘petsling.’ Hels called it the lowest moment in his life.

Hels hissed lowly but decided that at this point he had already suffered so much indignity that this one embarrassment was a small price to pay for spending more time outside. Scar was delighted to find Hels being so willing and took Hels with him outside to work on his build. 

Hels was grumpy at first, soon bored of being stuck in place when there was so much around him to experience. But after awhile he learned that surprisingly, being stuck with Scar had a benefit. Up until that moment Hels had been so caught up in frustration and embarrassment over his situation that he hadn’t stopped to consider the advantages of appearing to be cute, innocent, and stupid (he figured Scar must experience advantages from that very skill set all the time). After all, most of his time was wasted watching Scar build or listening to him ramble, but every so often the things he said revealed flaws in his fellow hermits, weaknesses or hints that, if true, could prove valuable in Hels’s plans to wreck Hermitcraft. Sometimes other hermits would stop by or Scar would drop by their bases to speak to them, and Hels was able to slowly gather information from those experiences that he could use to burn the server to the ground once he got his real body back.

The realization only confirmed a thought Hels had already been toying with, for reasons he didn't quite know, and Hels truly didn’t understand the odd sense of relief he felt when he made his decision. He would have to stick around even after his wounds healed, to gain critical information. These foolish hermits would deliver deadly opportunities straight to him without ever even knowing. It was such a perfect opportunity, Hels simply couldn't _logically_ pass it up. That was the only reason he decided to stay of course. Logic. It had nothing to do with dozing off in patches of gentle sunlight, soft breezes and soothing hands carding through his fur. Nor did it have anything to do with the soft amusement he felt when he looked at his admittedly rather goofy caretaker, an emotion that had taken the place of contempt, though he wasn't sure when. And it _definitely_ had nothing to do with the strange feeling that had made its home in his chest that felt almost like contentment, or the terrifying adjustment of feeling so relaxed and safe in a place where he had no right or reason to feel that way.

No, none of those had any bearing on his decision at all, he assured himself. This life was not for him, his happiness would only be found once he conquered Hermitcraft and took his rightful place in victory. And yet somewhere a quiet voice, hidden so deep in the back of his mind that he couldn't find it to pry it out, whispered a hopeful _‘What if.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not sure how many chapters this will have, but I have a rough idea of what's coming. Next chapter is probably just Scar, then Bdubs will likely show up in chapter 5. I've been considering adding Doc in but I could still go either way on that decision. Are there any hermits any of you would particularly like to see show up?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yikes, writer's block hit hard. I am so sorry. This chapter was quite the pain to write and I ended separating my original plan for it into two chapters. I'll try to be more consistent with updates from now on, maybe I'll pace myself with an easy four or five day update schedule? Whatever I end up doing, rest assured 16 day breaks won't be a regular thing. Sorry!

Hels didn’t think he could ever get used to this. Waking up every morning to gentle sunlight, comfortable warmth, and a solid presence there letting him sleep as long as he wanted without fear of ambush or sabotage. The peacefulness of Hermitcraft really set him on edge and even after weeks of adjusting, Hels still expected some bloody battle to break out and ruin his serene morning. Yet the only thing that ever actually happened to disturb the peace and quiet was Hels’s own shenanigans. In fact, although his mind still couldn't wrap around the supposed safety of his shelter, his body had started to adjust despite him. He slept in a little longer each morning, longer than even Scar at this point. Nowadays he was coaxed awake by gentle hands stroking through his fur and a soft voice telling him to wake up and eat so the two of them could go.

And there was another thing Hels couldn’t get used to. His injuries improved more and more each day, especially now that Hels wasn’t constantly making mad dashes for freedom – Hels refused to acknowledge the correlation there – and he’d even been putting on more weight thanks to Scar’s determined coddling. Yet Scar still stubbornly fussed over Hels as if he was still helpless. Each day, Hels received meals and treats and praise for such little, easy things as walking to Scar to greet him or jumping up on a chest. And though Hels was almost certainly past the risk of infection, gentle hands and worried eyes still checked him daily for any aggravations to his injuries, and Scar still carried him around whenever they left the house. And from any logical perspective, Scar shouldn’t feel the need to bring Hels along with him every day now that Hels’s health was steadily improving and he had stopped trying to flee. Yet Scar still brought him along nearly every time, and he didn’t seem bothered by the inconvenience at all, nor was Hels stuck in silence in the embarrassing cat sling all day. Instead Scar would speak aloud as he worked, telling him stories and dropping little pieces of information about the other hermits and generally seeming almost happy to have Hels’s company. And Hels certainly wasn’t complaining – he was sticking around to gather information after all. He just couldn’t quite come to terms with the unfamiliar experience of someone being so stupidly pleased to keep his company.

It was… nice. Nicer than being stuck in the silence of the house all day, stewing in boredom until his caretaker returned home. Even though he basically had nothing to do all day, Hels still found himself enjoying those hours spent working on the hermit’s builds almost as much as he’d enjoyed adventuring and pillaging in his own realm. And Scar seemed to enjoy the experience as well, so Hels at least wouldn’t have to owe him for even more than he already did.

Which was why it caught him so off guard, the subtle shift in Scar’s behavior. The way Scar started trailing off mid sentence sometimes when he spoke of the plans he was making in the future, how he started taking breaks more often just to tuck Hels into his arms and pet him, and how irritatingly disappointed he was whenever Hels chose to sleep on his cushion on the floor instead of the bed with him – which he’d been doing more often despite the kicked puppy look Scar always gave him. The man was just getting so damn touchy with all the petting and cuddling, and it was nice sometimes but there was only so much Hels could take before it made his skin crawl and his nerves set off alarms. Or, most worrisome of all, the sad look that had replaced what was once relief whenever Scar checked his wounds and saw how much progress his healing had made.

It caught him off guard, and maybe it shouldn’t have, but despite how out of place and uncertain he felt in this strange environment, Hels had found himself settling in to the warmth and protection without realizing it, getting used to what he never should have allowed to become his new normal. He had grown so used to it in fact, that on some level he had all but forgotten that he had once wanted to leave. But Scar, apparently, had not.

Hels didn’t connect the dots at first, didn’t worry when he woke up and didn’t feel the smallest twinge of pain or soreness. He smacked Scar in the face with his paw until he woke up and made him breakfast, and, feeling generous on the bright and peaceful morning, Hels even deigned to lick him briefly to show his gratitude the only way he really could. He was in such a good mood that he didn’t stop to wonder why he was given a little extra breakfast that morning, or why Scar was lingering nearby instead of walking off to get changed like he usually would. He only made the connection when Scar lifted him up to do a last check of his injuries, and the sad smile on his face made Hels’s stomach drop. 

“Oh,” Scar started, hesitantly, and Hels hated how long it had taken him to realize what a full recovery would mean. “Congratulations kitty, looks like you’re all set to go back out to the wild.” Hels stiffened as Scar cradled him against his chest one last time. _One last time._ Because Hels didn’t need to be kept anymore. Scar didn’t feel obligated to take care of him, to hold him and talk to him and lend him the gentle touches Hels hadn't ever even known he needed. Scar didn’t need- didn't _want_ to keep him around anymore. Suddenly, Hels was faced with the familiar sight of a solo life. Suddenly, Hels was faced with the harsh hands of the world that he once thought was the only embrace he’d ever know. Suddenly, he was faced with fending for himself again, with no one else around to care, _again._ It had come too soon, too suddenly. He wasn't ready yet. He wasn't. He didn't want to go. Not yet, not-

Not ever.

It was in that moment, as Scar gently lifted him up and walked out of the warm house and towards the looming shadows of the jungle, that Hels was hit with the worst realization of his life. Worse than realizing being alone was safer than being with his allies. Worse than realizing the only worth he held was in his prowess with the blade. Worse than realizing that he had failed to defeat Wels, that all his hard work crumbled in the face of his stupid, blessed counterpart. Worse than all of them combined, he realized that he didn’t want to be alone anymore. And he realized it in the exact moment loneliness reached its greedy talons for him once again.

The absence of touch, of comfort, of comradery had been so consistent throughout his entire life that he had never really stopped to notice how cold and painful its grasp was. He had embraced, accepted it as just the way life was. But now he had experienced something else, and now he was helpless to the chilling revelation that he was _scared_ of it. Scared to be alone. Scared to fend for himself after getting the chance to be protected by another without threat or bargaining for once in his life. Scared to face the harsh dangers of the world in this puny little body, yes, but also to face it in his own human form without someone he trusted watching out for him. And that was a horrifying revelation in itself, the fact the he considered Scar someone he could trust. He had never had that before and he was never meant to, because trust was softness, was weakness. And Hels, Hels had never and would never allow himself weakness. He had grown too soft here, accustomed to the ceaseless coddling and the novelty of not having to worry about his safety. That softness would surely get him killed out in the real world, or at the very least it would lead to a very painful learning curve until he learned to handle his feline body. He would much rather stay in the safety provided here and bask in the _temporary_ weakness until he could turn human again. Then, he could rip the mushy bits out of his chest, steal his foolish caretaker’s equipment, and lay waste to the idiot’s world with his own sword. He would crush those weaknesses that had Scar had rooted in him, this fear, this hesitancy, this desire for softness. It would be easy, once he had his own body back. It must have been this weak little cat body doing this to him, surely. After it was gone, Hels wouldn't hesitate. He just needed to wait it out, and then he would no longer fear loneliness, back in the body that knew it to be its best tool for survival. If only Scar wasn’t so keen on getting rid of him…

A kiss placed on the top of his head drew Hels out of his thoughts, dread setting in as he realized they had already reached the treeline. “I’m going to miss you, you know. Moodiness and all,” Scar muttered into his fur, and Hels froze. That couldn’t be right, Scar was the one separating them, not the other way around. Surely if he actually wanted Hels around he wouldn’t be doing this. 

“I do wish you’d stay,” Scar continued. “but I know I shouldn't keep you longer than I already have. You clearly want a wild life, and it’d be selfish to keep such a cute ‘lil guy like you from a happy life.”

It clicked, and Hels cursed the brashness of his past escape attempts. Of course Scar thought he’d never want to stay after all the fuss he’d made at first. Hels’s mind was racing as he was set down in front of the jungle, trying to think of a way to convey his change in heart. It was hard to think with both the trees and the threat of vulnerability looming over him. He glanced back at Scar who had taken a step back and was wearing the most pitiful strained smile. “Go on, it’s okay, I won’t stop you. Good luck. Just- stay out of the nether from now on, okay?” He laughed, a horrible, wet noise. Hels hated it. Hated how weirdly distraught Scar seemed to be over letting him go. Hated his own hesitancy, his doubts of if Scar would really even want to keep him if Hels proved he wanted to stay.

He couldn’t imagine it, anyone wanting to spend more time taking care of him without any potential payment. But, glancing back at the intimidating world behind him, Hels decided it was worth a shot. If anyone in either of their worlds genuinely wanted Hels’s company, it would be this soft-hearted fool.

Scar was still watching him expectantly, but instead of advancing towards the trees Hels instead turned and walked back to him. He stopped in front of the confused hermit and meowed, looking up at Scar. He even brushed against the other’s legs to prove his point, embarrassing as it was.

Hels could hear Scar’s breath hitch before Scar crouched down beside him, his hand hovering over Hels’s fur. “The jungle’s the other way, buddy. Unless… you want to stay?” Hels purred softly and bumped his head against the lingering hand. For a few tense moments, there was silence. Then Hels was pulled into a warm embrace, laughter pressed into his fur.

“Aw, Peanut! Did I grow on you?” Hels meowed and squirmed, affronted by the very idea. Scar just laughed more and pressed two kisses to the top of Hels’s head then let him go, smiling widely. “Well, you grew on me too. I’m glad you want to stick around.” Scar scratched under Hels’s chin with an impossibly fond expression that made something within Hels squirm. Not in a bad way though. As strange and foreign as it was, Hels wanted more of the fluttery feeling, and more of those soft looks. Scar scooped Hels into his arms and stood, smiling when Hels purred and relaxed in his arms. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Home. When he moved on from this place, Hels would have to discard that concept. The house would just be a remnant of weaker days, and it would inevitably be set aflame alongside the rest of Hermitcraft. For now, though, Hels could let himself be weak. Could let himself enjoy the safety and warmth of a “home” for a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter - more Scar and Hels stuff, maybe with a brief Bdubs cameo. After that I'll hopefully be working in more visits from other Hermits, so feel free to leave recommendations if there's someone you want me to add. As always, please leave a comment if you have any input - whether it's input on the fic, on the character, or on anything at all, I'd love to hear from you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably my least favorite so far :/

Life was different after Scar deemed Hels fully healed. Mornings and evenings were much the same, spent with Scar being oddly touchy and attentive. But the bulk of most afternoons was different as Scar spent most days off on his own working, leaving Hels behind. At first, Hels didn’t mind the change. Gone were the days of being locked in the house or stuck in place in the stupid little catsling. Now Hels was free to roam as he pleased without Scar fretting over his injuries like a frantic mother hen. In his first week or so of total freedom Hels explored all around their home, although he didn’t yet dare to enter the jungle. Much to his surprise, Hels found he actually quite liked Hermitcraft, or at least the world itself, perhaps not the people so much. He had known it had its charming qualities already from his trips out with Scar, but it was an entirely new and exciting experience to feel the gentle sun on his whole body, or feel the wind card through his fur freely, or to have the opportunity to find and admire the color and abundant life all around him at his own pace. The whole place was so much nicer than his own world, though Hels supposed that wasn’t exactly a difficult achievement. After all Hellscraft, with its cavernous ceilings, scorching heat, and boring, repetitive pallets of red, brown, and gray, wasn't exactly a scenic vacation spot. Hels soaked in as much of the new world as he could, enjoying it while it lasted. It all made him feel a little twinge of regret remembering his plans to burn Hermitcraft to the ground, but he pushed that aside and tried to enjoy exploring and adjusting to full mobility in his fuzzy form.

After a few days though, Hels grew bored of his new roaming grounds. The whistle of wind and chirping of birds was pretty, sure, but it got old after awhile. Before long the highlight of his day once again became the time he and Scar spent together, irritating as it was. Scar didn’t fuss over him as much anymore, but Hels delighted in finding the most annoying ways possible to get his attention, so he didn’t mind the challenge. It was fun bothering him, jumping on top of every chest he tried to open or sitting in any spot he tried to put something down. It was even more fun to yowl and meow when Scar tried to concentrate and to try to sneak up on him and catch him off guard.

Hels felt childishly smug whenever his little antics earned him attention from his caretaker, sometimes even praise and petting, but he had always been a greedy man, and he soon grew impatient and dissatisfied with the time they spent apart and Hels was left to his own devices. He often wondered about where Scar was during the day, remembering the many times Scar had taken him with him on some build or adventure. Joining him again would certainly beat being left bored and alone, and would likely be a better use of his time if it yielded more information. But Hels couldn't think of a way to make Scar decide to bring Hels along without acting oddly, and there was no way Hels was going to just follow Scar of his own volition. He wasn’t some loyal little lapdog after all. Scar could never be allowed to think Hels might be _fond_ of him.

So instead Hels spent most of his days exploring and gradually venturing closer to the jungle, chasing birds (an act which Hels would deny _vehemently_ if anyone saw it and somehow knew it was him), and waiting for Scar to get home to feed and entertain him. Scar’s return usually didn’t take too long, though there wasn’t ever a specific time Hels could expect him back. Every day so far Scar had been back before sunset.

Then one day, he wasn’t.

Hels didn’t think much of it at first, the absence of his human as the sun began to set. It was irritating, sure, and Hels would be sure to meow Scar’s ear off as payment once he got home, but Hels wasn’t clingy, he knew it wasn’t unheard of for someone to stay a little late working on a project. So he sat on the roof and watched the sunset, a brilliant array of bright colors that thoroughly distracted him from the faint worry nagging the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t left Scar alone in the evenings before to watch this, it was beautiful.

As the sun finished setting and darkness settled over the world, thick and heavy, that little whisper of worry steadily grew in strength. Hels knew the tricks to flying in dim light back at his own world, but it was normally so bright in Hermitcraft, would Scar know how to get home when even the moon was cloaked in dark clouds? Would he crash into one of the obnoxiously tall trees surrounding their home? What if his elytra broke and he found himself stranded in an open plain, hordes of monsters flocking to him with no way out?

The air outside was chilly now, uncomfortable, but Hels refused to go inside. Instead, he sat on top of the roof, gaze fixed on the horizon. He saw no sign of Scar and something in his stomach was churning uneasily. Hours dragged on, and Hels wasn't sure if it was the icy air or something else but he was finding it difficult to breathe. He was tired but couldn’t shut his eyes without the lurking thoughts springing forward in his mind. What if Scar was trapped somewhere? What if he had gotten tired of Hels and had left? What if one of the other Helscrafters somehow made it through to Hermitcraft and had taken him hostage or dragged him back to Helscraft to kill him permanently? What if, what if, what if?

By the time the moon had arrived at its midpoint Hels felt like he was going crazy. He couldn’t seem to calm himself down or go back inside to warmth and safety. Instead he sat as if glued to that one spot, his ears and eyes alert for any little change that could signal Scar’s approach. Finally, he spotted it, two figures drawing nearer to the house, one leaning on the other for support. As they got closer, Hels recognized the one leading as Bdubs and the other as- _Scar._ Hels leapt down from his perch on the roof and sprinted over to the pair, circling around them and meowing wildly. Bdubs hushed him and Hels noticed how antsy and on edge the man looked, peering around at the darkness around them nervously, but he really didn’t care. He was much more concerned with the stupid human Bdubs was helping through the doorway who looked thoroughly exhausted and definitely had a heavy limp.

Bdubs helped Scar into the house and kicked the door closed once Hels darted in alongside them. He then lead his tired friend over to the bed and helped him lay down, but must not have been careful enough if Scar’s wince was a clear indication. And oh, it was certainly clear enough for Hels. His blood boiled and had he not been more concerned with getting in between them, he would have taken a chunk out of Bdubs’s leg then and there. Luckily for Bdubs he instead jumped up on the bed and snapped warningly at the hermit’s hands, snarling. 

Bdubs jerked his hand back with a nervous laugh. “Woah, woah. I’m just tryna’ help, kitty.” Hels growled louder, startling when he felt Scar’s hand pat his back.

“I’m okay Peanut, just had a rough respawn. But I’m here now, see?” Hels stopped his hissing but shot Bdubs a last withering look before curling up on Scar’s chest. Scar smiled but gently nudged him. “Come on, you must be hungry, right? Let me fix you dinner.” He moved as if to get up and, well, obviously Hels wasn't having that. Hels wasn’t sure what it was, but something about the thought of Scar causing himself any pain just for Hels’s benefit made him feel rather, icky, for lack of a better word. Which was strange, because usually Hels delighted in making people do things for his benefit, especially if it ended up hurting them in the process. Hels brushed it off as a side effect of being tired and curled up more tightly to keep Scar in place, growling. 

Scar laughed but let him stay, settling back on the bed. “Thanks for your help Bdubs. There’s another bed in the guest room if you want to stay over.”

Bdubs laughed sheepishly, glancing out at the inky night through the window. “That’d be much appreciated, so long as your crazy cat over there doesn’t try ta eat me in my sleep.”

Scar tried to insist Hels wasn't normally like this, but Hels and Bdubs both made their disagreement vocal. Bdubs did express more gratitude for a place to stay the night however and retreated into the other room. Hels wished he could just chase the intruder out of his space but he wasn’t about to leave his stupid idiot defenseless in bed so unfortunately, he resigned himself to letting Bdubs stay.

He made himself comfortable on Scar’s chest, who had already fallen asleep practically the moment the house went quiet. Scar had one arm curled around Hels and the other resting over his back, and Hels allowed the stifling contact just this once, finding he too craved it tonight. He even caught himself purring briefly and shut that down swiftly.

Something was still coiled in his chest, its jagged edges prickling his nerves and digging between his ribs. He didn’t understand it, that strange feeling. It had its barbs rooted in him but still seemed determined to burrow out of his chest to be closer to the sleeping human beneath him. Hels couldn’t grasp why it hurt so much, or why it seemed to settle little by little when he focused on the rise and fall of his caretaker’s chest. It put him on edge, and the more Hels tried to unravel its mystery the more his heartbeat seemed to race and dread seemed to creep into his thoughts. Hels was so very tired, he found, and the quiet comforting hush of Scar’s breath was so very soothing. Sleep beckoned to him, an easy escape from the roiling sea of uncertainties he’d waded into. Hels had never been one to take the easy way out. But he was oh so very tired, and Scar was here, and safe, and Hels was safe, and, well, those feelings would be back someday, as all unpleasant things always are, so Hels decided, just this once, he’d deal with it later. 

He pushed the mysteries away and let the quiet safety of home lull him into sleep at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, respawning is a common occurrence in Hermitcraft and isn't a big deal, but does usually leave some lingering effects until the respawner has a chance to rest. Particularly nasty or repetitive deaths can sometimes leave lasting damage but it's uncommon. Scar's okay, he just needs some rest (which he really should have just stayed with Bdubs to get instead of aggravating it by going home) after suffering an icky death while doing campaign work with Bdubs. I haven't actually caught up to that point in their videos so hopefully that makes sense as a situation.  
> Also I doubt anyone misinterpreted this, but just to be safe - Bdubs didn’t really hurt Scar and it definitely wasn't on purpose. Scar was just already in pain and unfortunately a bit of jostling was inevitable. Hels was just too worried and too used to people being underhanded and cruel to realize it was likely an accident.  
> Thanks for reading, feel free to leave any thoughts or ideas down in the comments, it's a huge encouragement! Next chapter - Hangout time with Bdubs, and Hels coming to some realizations.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! This chapter was mostly just setting it all up, the next chapter will have much more character interaction. I have the rough draft for the next few chapters done already, but I don't want to clog up the tags if the story sounds stupid and like it's not worth continuing, so let me know if you do/don't want more I guess? Additionally, I'm still working on trying to not write Scar completely out of character, so if you have any input on what you'd like to see from him, let me know.  
> \---  
> Please leave a comment if you have any input - whether it's input on the fic, on the character, or on anything at all, I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
